Dreamscape
by Nyao.Nyaro
Summary: Dreams serves as his path to the future. For Naz, it serves as an escape from the present. Joined by a past that they both learn to share to a certain degree, can dreams pave a way to a glorious future for both of them?
1. Prologue

_There is a vast sea before me; a wide body of water that goes on and on for miles on end. The misty shores were desolate and only the cry of birds echoed in this liquid fortress of solitude. And yet, despite seeing this landscape...I know that I'm falling deeper and deeper within this mighty sea's grasp. The scent of salt numbs my senses while the blur caused by water fills my sight. But even still, breathing doesn't seem to be a problem._

_In the distance, something seemed to be making some noise. The stomping sound of what seemed like hooves disturbed the ground where the waves crashed without fail. There, somewhere over my horizon was a sign of life._

_Where is this place, I wonder…The silence was deafening, but was much better than the sound orders barked at me every waking day. Here, there was a dull sensation that was akin to drowning yet the threat to life was absent. _

_Alone in this place of refuge all was well. The outside factors that made life a gruelling chore were not present. The stillness of the ocean from this depth was calming and soothing though at the same time instilled a feeling of loneliness and sadness._

_This seemed fine and all, so why...?_

_Why do I feel the need to call out to those who stood firm at the shore?_

In this confused stupor, the girl who continuously fell within the deep abyss lifted her hand to reach for the surface. At this point, it felt as if the comfort she had earlier had disappeared and the dreadful feeling of being drowned sank in. Water began to fill her lungs and her eyes began to sting. The salt water that entered her mouth definitely robbed her of her breathing.

At this point she began to feel lightheaded due to the absence of oxygen in her system, but as her eyes closed as if about to fall into a state of unconsciousness, a sound made it all the way to her ears. Unclear as it was, the young one was certain that it was a splash. Not to mention, she noticed a silhouette approaching. When the child tried to speak, she only incurred more of the ocean's wrath thus drowning her all the more. When finally darkness consumed her, the figure's arm shot out as if reaching for her own that was outstretched.

In the comfort of an average sized canopy bed sat a young girl no older than 15. Heavy and labored breaths echoed within the walls of the room as a cold sweat descended her forehead. In the vivid memory that she had of her dream where breathing was next to impossible, the sensation it seemed, was carried over to reality. Never in her life had she felt something so serious to the point where she thought that she would be an arm's length towards death. Though this was a scenario that she didn't mind one bit, dying in her sleep wasn't something that she was all too excited for.

Images flashed in her mind and all that she could see was a looming figure, a dark shadow that tried to reach out for her. There in the depths of the vast and endless sea, was a man or creature that hoped to bring her salvation.

"I'm right here."

The sound of the man's voice echoed in her head. The girl dropped back into the soft mattress and sank down slightly. Onyx orbs stared at the ceiling, the light in her eyes seemingly extinguished. She felt close to the ends of demise and yet that sound was like a touch of light. Comforting, there was nothing else to do but ponder as she once again drifted to the land of slumbers.

Deep as the depths of the sea and reassuring as the fact that there was no escape from it, Aminah Zubin Naz Tir's path to the future was but a dream away.


	2. The First Sound of Waves

**Author's Note: This is the first time I'm actually writing based on history. BUT OF COURSE, this is a work of fiction~ the names and places might exist in historical text books but I've made changes in order to incorporate my own character(s) into it. So if you find some things that seems off...well, just remember it's a work of fiction. But as far as Iskandar is concerned...I'll try my best to get his character right. xD **

**For now, enjoy the story and hope you do! If you wish to see scenarios...xD Please feel free to comment on them~ **

**Chapter 1 - The First Sound of Waves**

"Truly, his attitude is a little troubling..."

Olympias, the wife of Macedon's King, Philip, was rather concerned with her son's attitude when it came to women. Normally, boys his age would already be wholly interested in their female counterparts, but Alexander was much too preoccupied with the thought of battles and well...boys. Take Hephaestion for example. As much as she didn't want to delve into her son's affairs...well, maybe she did...Olympias was very much against this friendship of Alexander's with Hephaestion. This wasn't to say that she didn't understand why they were so close. It wasn't just because they were childhood friends, Alexander and the other were also classmates under the tutelage of Aristotle. They pretty much shared the same view as much as they shared the same air...and to the young Macedonian Prince's mother, this was very VERY odious. The boy who was always with his father and the army that he'd inherit sometime in the future was making him stray away from his other duties as future king. And that, to Olympias, proved to be a very troublesome scenario.

Of course it wasn't only the mother who was fretting. Even King Philip was sitting himself beside with worry due to his son's lack of resolve to take in a wife or two and procreate. After all, when the current king was his son's age, he had been quite sexually active not only with women but also with handsome young boys. So, he really couldn't understand why the young prince didn't show much interest. He was too reserved for his own good. If he was as eager in this matter as he was in trying to prove himself as the best in well, everything, then maybe he wouldn't over think of this matter much. Has the fruit fallen much too far from the tree when it came to one's more...carnal of desires?

"Maybe we should set something for Alexander." Olympias suggested. In her mind, a thousand possibilities surged through...which meant a thousand of Macedonia's finest women of both nobility and prostitutes for his son's enjoyment. Philip wasn't far behind on this thought, though he was slightly tempted to join in on the fun, but thought against it in order to prioritize Alexander's needs first.

"Probably a banquet filled with girls from different villages? Maybe add in some of the more beautiful slaves to rouse his curiosity?" Philip added further.

Now it seemed like they were getting somewhere. And this seemed like a rather decent achievement since Philip wasn't the most thrilled when it came to his wife. Well, ever since that time when he saw her sleeping with a giant serpent...he began to become very uncomfortable in her presence. Still, as the ideas sparked continuously, the pair made sure to execute the plan without fail. They would invite the most beautiful women in Macedonia regardless of age in order to put on a good time for their war mongering son. To these ends, they hoped that their plan would work.

As for Alexander, he went about his days in ways that was normal to him. During the early mornings, the lad would wake up in order to sacrifice to the gods for a good and bountiful day. After that he would spend the majority of the hours with Aristotle and some of his other peers in order to learn about philosophy. Training would come in the afternoon, but this was something he regarded as play time. His heart, it seemed, was captivated with sports and wars that he hardly noticed the female-kind who fawned over him every now and then. He wasn't so shabby looking and most importantly, he was the next in line to inherit the throne of his father...naturally, the girls of his country would flock to him with reasons other than merely love and passion.

If love was concerned, then there was probably no one other than Hephaestion that was deserving of his time and attention. The man was more than a brother and someone who understood him more than anyone else...even more than his parents...so it was only natural that he felt so drawn to him in a way that even his mother would be opposed to and weary of.

Though if there was something that would forever garner his undivided attention, devotion and passion, then it would be a long and arduous path of glory and greatness. As a child, he immersed himself in the teachings of war. All that he knew now as a young adult was something he learned solely from childhood. From tactics and strategies to weaponry and infantry management, he all learned during his tender age of boyhood.

This was what he lived for.

His heart thrived on the notion that one day he will surpass any great king that the world had to offer...even his father. And that's why, as much as he was grateful for the banquet that he now found himself in attendance to, it wasn't exactly where his heart resided. Sure the food, the drink and the women were grand, but there was something missing here. Here, there was no pursuit that he could consider 'beyond the horizon'. The sports event held was no more than a game that he easily won. The singing of the muses and the contest in the field of arts were no more than mere amusement. Sure Alexander enjoyed every bit of it, but it felt incomplete.

Sometimes, festivities like these felt vexing, but he was all for having a good time while enjoying the company of good friends and strangers alike.

"You really didn't have to do all these...mother, father." He mentioned, a smile gracing his features albeit slightly sheepish in nature. To this his parents merely smiled and dismissed his humility with - from Olympias, a hug and from Philip a hefty pat on the back.

"This is nothing. You deserve it for that excellent feat of skill you exhibited in the last battle." The king reassured with much pleasure. It wasn't the first time that Alexander had accompanied his father into battle but this time, he had won over one of the greatest men that existed in their time—the Sacred Band. No one had ever won against this band of warrior lovers...until his son had met with them faced to face in the field of battle.

"You should look forward for when evening time comes." His mother informed him...much to his chagrin. Although there were no signs of this on his face, but there was this lingering thought that ate at him. When evening came, he knew that all these beautiful women would be so into throwing themselves at him.

Food, sleep and sex...to enjoy life to the fullest was the only way to live. This thought was something that he adhered to without fault...but for today, he felt that the events that would transpire a couple of hours from now would be one of the more exhausting evenings of his life.

_And to think Philip and Olympias worked together to throw such a grand feast..._

To see his parents mingle among the guests was surely a sight to behold though. All his life, the prince saw how neglected his mother had become within the Court of Philip so to see them together like this was a little gratifying. Alexander loved them both, so this was quite a feat.

As time dug deep through the night though, the guests began to wane with most of the women heading over to a different venue. A room that was as grandiose as any dining hall in the palace was now filled with more than a hundred girls of different age. The splendid young ladies mingled amongst themselves just as how the older ladies created a sophisticated chatter amongst themselves. It didn't matter if nobles or slaves mixed at this point because they were given clear instructions to enjoy themselves. To the richer mass of flesh that was situated inside that enormous space, this was not far from their usual life style. For those who were average, they got the treat of their life, but for those who were servants and slaves...they were given the luxury of being part of something they could only dream of in their wildest dreams. And lucky they were indeed because the man of the hour was quite the gentleman who treated women with more respect than what normal men would usually give.

It was true that in this time, women were regarded as commodities but Alexander wasn't the conventional thinker.

As the young prince stepped inside the hall, women sauntered to where he stood that it was almost impossible to move past them. Lips pressed not only on his hands but against his cheeks, those that captured his fancy at first glance were given the honor of a lip lock that lasted for about a few seconds. The fact that he was an outstanding leader of his father's army not to mention a blue blood was something that most lost their minds for. If either one of them could be liked by the heir of Philip's Kingdom, they would rise into power...and power was something that was very much sought for.

After all, what woman doesn't want to be dressed in gold?

"It's a Persian..." There, near the center of the room, gossip began to circulate.

"Must be spoils of war." And it went on.

"I don't mind being dining with slaves...but to dine with a filthy Persian girl..."

"I know what you mean. Rather have her thrown to the army and ravaged like the spoil that she is."

A number of words made it to the girl in question, but she paid this no mind. So what if she was? And what if the rest of the girls here were of Macedon blood or maybe Tharcians or Illyrians? In her eyes, they were all just women and the others were lucky to just be in a kingdom under Macedonian rule. But to her, their nationality wasn't the most pressing matter. To her, where she was WAS actually the case.

She didn't know how she got in this situation. The last thing she remembered was being prepped against her will and dressed in such garbs that made her look like some kind of Arabian princess. It was much too tacky for her tastes. If she could have it, a chador would have been better. The young girl loved cloaks anyway and this girly looking attire dressed in gold trimmings just wasn't sitting in too well with her. And yet here she was, stalking half the room to try and find the exit in this vile looking attire. It didn't help that the golden wreath on her head that had an equally golden veil attached to it was becoming the envy of some of the more superficial ones in the room.

"Where is the hell's the exit?" She muttered under her breath as she pushed past the over stimulated mass of flesh that barred everything. She could feel others try to trip her after hearing the gossip while some tried to grab at her hair. When one had been successful, the offended Persian girl would turn to slap the hand away only to follow it up by a slap to the face. Safe to say, a mini cat fight was about to see its dawn.

"How dare you!?" The struck Macedonian girl yelled.

"You touched me with that filthy hand of yours. Blame yourself for the misfortune that befell that ugly face of yours." The Persian spoke, contempt seething in her voice. In reality, the girl didn't understand what the other said but from the posture and the flaring nostrils, she could get the gist of the outburst. After that, what followed was a rather common scene from warring ladies: hair pulling and slaps, clawing, screaming at each other in their native tongues...it couldn't get any simpler. But the victim seems to have a little something up her sleeves.

Grabbing the Macedonian beauty by the wrist was just the first part, the next would be to twist the woman's hand behind her back before driving a knee behind the other's knee in order to bring her offender down to the ground. She would mount her back in the next instance before, with her free hand, she shoved it behind the other's head to push her face down on the ground. Cries of pain could be heard now, this position was embarrassing. And as a Macedonian woman, the fact that she was bested by a Persian was like the salt that rubbed on her wounded pride.

"What's going on here?"

At the sound of the voice, the crowd moved as if an ocean that had been magically separated. What the two girl's saw was a seemingly shocked prince. Aside from the initial shock, there was a hint of anger starting to show. To think that someone would actually dare to cause uproar in his presence let alone in a time of what was supposed to be a feast. If he couldn't put a stop to this, then it would only serve to mar his reputation. Then again, deep inside he was a little stunned to see a woman who could pin down someone in a way that a man normally would. It was intriguing to say the least.

Unfortunately for his foreign guest though, he had to be a bit tougher on her due to this unsightly display. At his approach, Alexander ceased the girl by the arm and yanked her of the Macedonian noblewoman. Sauntering the other to the side, the prince helped his fellow countryman to her feet.

"That vile whore, that vile whore—!"

"Hush, I will personally see to it that she does not leave unpunished." With a kiss to the noblewoman's tearing eyes, the Macedonian's heir now turned his sights at the foreigner. Without as much as batting an eyelash, Alexander grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the room and out of the door, but not without telling one of his friends that were in attendance to tend to the women that were left behind. At the moment they were out of sight, the jovial giggles continued much like before this little incident had happened.

"Let me go!" The girl yelled while trying to go the other way to show her resistance. To this, the he was slightly impressed. Not a lot had the guts to go against him, especially not of the opposite sex.

When they were far away from the banquet hall, Alexander whirled the girl in front of him and stared her right in the eyes. "Calm down."

And then came silence. The stillness was uncanny to the point that the girl stopped moving. To see the look on her face was somewhat gratifying. "You speak Iranian?" She finally broke the ice. At the mention of the word 'Iranian', the man would tilt his head to the side with much curiosity. "Iranian?" He spoke in the same language he addressed her with to which she nodded. "It's Persian."

Now that she remembered, Iran was previously called Persia.

"You were quite magnificent back there." With a slight nod, he would come to demonstrate what he thought was what she had done. Letting her go finally, he would grab at the air as if assailing a man and much like what she had done earlier drive the imaginary foe on the ground. He had a face that was filled with excitement as he did so. It was like the demonstration was giving him a flare for life that matched the thrill of being in a field of battle. "It was like this, am I not right?"

"Are you not mad at what happened?" Right now, this was what was eating at her. He did seem bent on punishing her when he dragged her out of the room. And look at him now, like a little boy who found something to brag about.

"Mad? I am furious!" Came his outburst. "But also, I am excited!" Now, Alexander stood and strode towards her. What she thought was about to become a double handed hit was nothing more than the man's hand's landing on her shoulders. In that instant he was so close that she could feel his breath on her face. For a man, he smelled awful...awful nice that is. Like a fragrant flower that would have put the perfume of the women in the hall to shame.

"Atop that woman, you were like a lioness. To have such skill be displayed before me appeases whatever anger I have had." He paused to give her a grin. That soon melted in to a smile that was filled with sincerity, one that took the girl by storm and threw her off guard. How could someone act so friendly to one that they've just met? "Tonight, you were the most beautiful." In the next instance Alexander, Prince of Macedonia leaned in to press his lips upon the other's cheek. It was, according to what he learned, an act of endearment and respect for the Persians. Seeing as he was dealing with one, it would be best to communicate in their terms. When he withdrew though, he kept his eyes on her to take in the form of this strange girl.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Naz." She replied. To this, Alexander lofted a brow.

"Your father must have desired for a boy to actually name you after one." With a hearty laugh, he spoke. This comment was something of a joke, but when he saw the sudden change in Naz's expression, he stopped. Perhaps this was a subject that he shouldn't have touched upon. Even in this place, a lot of parents wanted male heirs to inherit their names. In Persia, it was probably no different. "What I meant was—"

"That's right. My father wanted a male heir." She started before threading across the hallway, her back towards him. "But it's nothing to worry about. I'm training."

"To be a suitable heir?" He questioned further.

"To be a suitable son."

When she looked back at him and he saw that pained grin on his face, he felt like he was about to be moved to tears. It was only his will that was holding it back. For some reason, he had never seen a more painful sight and on a female no less. That expression of feigned happiness made it look all the more tragic.

"To be a suitable son?" He repeated grimly as if this darkness had befallen his features. "No one should live that way."

"Well, you have no business in telling me what to do." She barked back stubbornly.

"What?!" Did she just shot him down? One who was offering her his sympathy? Most would have been grateful, would have even come over to embrace him for showing such kindness, but this girl, this Naz told him off without as much as a strand of hesitation. Hearing his raised voice did not even make her flinch. That defiant look on her face matched with that narrowly glaring eyes made him remember how resilient Persian-borns were. Still he composed himself and began to walk towards the young lass. "Then tell me," he started before crossing his arms over his chest. "...why I have no business to try and tell you how you should live."

"Because you are not my father nor are you my king...or a king no less." After all, she didn't know who he was. Naz had no idea that she was in the presence of the one who would inherit the entirety of Macedon when the time came. This comment did, if anything, irked him to the point that he was already clenching his fist.

"So, you are saying that...if I become king, you will listen to me and abhor that stupidity that you're doing?"

"Stupidity?! Nothing I'm doing is stu—" Words were cut when Naz saw the ferocity in her host's eyes. He was bloody serious about it that she was stunned for words. Why would a stranger go so far? "You can't just be any king." Suddenly, that tensed feeling was gone. All traces of anger left Alexander's face and instead were replaced with curiosity, wonder and confusion all at the same time. His stance relaxed as he looked at her with mild interest as to what she meant. "You have to be a king that I can accept," She paused for a moment to cross her arms above her chest as if mimicking the other. "At least a king other than myself."

"So, you wish to be king as well, little girl?" This seemed like an odious thought, but seeing as how she lived, it was probably a delusion brought about by her father's ways.

"I wish to be free."

Then again, that silence.

"Then why be a king if all you wish for is freedom? You can grasp it with your own hands without the need to be a ruler!"

"I wish to be a king of myself! To be in charge of my own destiny and not someone who gets told what to do. If I cannot be that king...then I will follow one that can lead me to it." This time, she met the prince's gaze. "To my destiny."

Whether it was her words or the burn in her eyes that shouted this desire, one thing was for sure, Alexander was fired up. Here in front of him was something that he had been searching for within that banquet hall filled with women—a challenge. Right now, he felt that Naz was a person that he must conquer. Her toughness was like that of the sea's crashing waves daring him, the shore, to march further into her depths.

"Then you shouldn't waste time waiting and start following me." He declared with a sense of pride that could not be rivalled by any other. "Because I will be that king!"

In the next seconds that passed, the Macedonian Prince lofted a brow. Did he just hear her giggling?

"That's still left to be seen and for me to decide." She spoke finally before turning away and again began to walk in the direction that she had stalked for earlier.

"But is Naz truly your name?" He questioned, unrelated.

"Yes. Aminah Zubin Naz Tir."

"Then Aminah—"

"You hold no right to call me as such." She snapped almost immediately upon hearing the name roll off of the man's tongue. Not even her father addressed her by that name. When she turned back to glare at him, what he saw was that confident smirk on his face. It seemed annoying at most.

"I will win that right then...as your rightful king."

And then she was gone, without even saying a word or smiling before she went away and vanished along the corners of the hall.

"'I'll make sure she doesn't leave unpunished', huh?"

To the sound of the voice, Alexander whirled to see his good friend, Hephaestion leaning against the wall as if he had been there from the very beginning. To this, the prince simply grinned and chuckled gleefully while scratching his cheek.

"You do realize you've just allowed a Persian captive to escape, right?" Finally abandoning the wall he situated himself in, the clack of sandals clear as day.

"She's better freed than chained." Hepaestion could see the interest that brewed inside his friend and shook his head. When Alexander was like this, eager and excited as if a little boy that was finally given the horse he wanted, how could he not support him and his thoughts? "I want her for my army."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"As serious as I am when I tell you that I will rule over even things that I cannot behold, Hephaestion."

**THUD**

"..."

Blaring at the corner of her desk was an infernal creation that men deemed worthy to replace the clucking of those feather dressed cocks in the morning. Louder than the trumpets of hell and was more infernal than the blazing sun was the alarm clock. Beep and beep it went until the destined time has passed. And there in the floor, not really caring about it was a young girl who was groaning from the pain of falling over the edge of her bed.

"A king...huh?"

There were fragments of her dream left in her memory...especially that preposterous claim of wanting freedom. When one was born in a family of magi, something like escaping from one's destiny was farfetched dream. Admittedly, Naz was never that great a magus. Drugged from a young age in order to open magic circuits, she felt her circuits being pried open day after day after day. Training that was as hellish as walking upon the coals of the scorching earth, all this she endured to be a son worthy of her father's affection. It was a curse to be a woman...all this brutality just because she was a girl.

"_I will win that right then...as your rightful king." _

There was a faint image in her head as well. A man draped in white, obviously taller than she. With a mane of red and skin that seemed to have been tanned under rigorous hours under the sun, he looked like a lion. His eyes were as red as rubies and his scent more fragrant than flowers that could be found in the garden. Surely, he was grand...but boastful. His ego was bigger than he was yet it wasn't as offending as she initially felt. He was a strange man.

"_A king...huh..."_

She mused in her thoughts as she stared at the ceiling. Even if she held out her hand to it, it was still far from her reach, much like her dream of salvation from a life filled with magecraft.

"How long do you plan to lie there you useless child?"

As if struck by a lightning bolt, Naz sat straight up and stood. The groan from earlier was gone and the pain she felt cast aside in order to turn to the man that stood just outside her door. There, watching her from the confines of her bedroom was a man with long gray hair, tan skin and dark narrow eyes.

"Forgive me, father." She bowed in repentance.

"Your training begins before dawn. Dawdle and Iskandar will come and punish you." And with that, her father left.

In most Iranian households, the name Iskandar was feared most especially by children. It was the same for her house, it seemed. Although used as a threat for misbehaving children, her father instilled in her that Iskandar was a monster to be feared if she ever incurred his wrath by being a lazy child. This worked though probably because she feared her father more than the tale of the great Iranian prince who was known as both protector and destroyer in the old days of Persia.

"Rubbish..."

She breathed out, before collecting herself in order to start the day.


End file.
